20: Just Like Adrastus

Beta'd by SnowyEgrett

The hot water pouring down from the showerhead helped Lin FenXiang relieve his taut muscles and strung up nerves.

A curse, huh? He thought, combing his fingers through his wet hair and gasping. How did this happen?

A fire, a death.

Lin FenXiang gritted his teeth and punched the wall feebly.

No greater grief than this, no greater regret than this.

How could he not know of his own lover's death?

Such a gruesome death. How, how did he think that Adrastus might have passed away because of old age?

How?!

How could he still have such naive hopes?

Lin FenXiang sniffled through the hot water and gasped, his chest felt painfully tight as he dragged himself out of the bathroom in daze.

He was roughly drying his hair using his towel when the phone on the nightstand buzzed.

With a sniffle and a troubled frown, he turned on his phone to see the notification. It was a message from Bai LiuYao.

[Bai LiuYao: FenXiang, are you coming back to China?]

[?]

[Bai LiuYao: For the drama's promotion, obviously.]

[I'll think about it.]

He answered after some thought.

[But don't get your hopes too high. I have some things to do.]

Like visiting Yorkshire, for example.

[Bai LiuYao: I see, but Director Peng was hoping for you to show up for the promotional shows.]

[Sorry, no can do as of now. When does the promotion period start anyway?]

[Bai LiuYao: The first show will be held seven days from now.]

[I see. I'll think about it.]

Throwing the phone on the bed unceremoniously, Lin FenXiang closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath.

Quickly, he took out his suitcase and ruffled through it. Soon enough, he found what he was looking for.

His sketchbook and art toolkit.

Casually plopping on the plush chair by the window — with a coffee table in front — he took out a woodcase pencil, opened his sketchbook and sniffled softly as he sharpened the pencil.

Leaning back on the chair, he looked at the blank sketchbook on his lap as though it had offended him greatly.

Then, slowly he began to draw on it.

To him sketching was a way to calm down, even if just a little. By the time, he was done with a sketch and feeling a lot calmer, he looked at the final product.

It was a sketch of his lover, his muse, Adrastus. The Duke — in the sketch — was as noble and as aloof as he remembered.

Sighing as he pushed the unrelenting thoughts of Adrastus' death — by fire — at the back of his mind, he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

This London trip proved to be much more shocking and taxing than he had expected.

Sitting on the chair, his legs spread apart and elbows resting on his knees with his forehead pressed against his interlaced hands.

Drystan contemplated.

He was a cynical person, yes. He was cold hearted, yes. But when he trusted, he wished for it to last. When he felt, he wished for his feelings to be accepted.

He wasn't prone to showing his true self to people, much less to those who he did not trust or know as much as he deemed safe.

However, even though everything was an act, he had some sincerity in what he did.

Did he want to return to China? No, not so soon. Not when his past was so close, yet so far. Not when something was wrong and it was related to him, indirectly.

Not when he was home.

A hell, that's for sure. A hell England had become for him when he was six and it had lasted till he was seven, because that was when his maternal uncle had come to him and taken him to Japan.

But it had also been the place his desire had been realised, his vengeance had come to fruition. It had also been the place where he'd met his best friend and then it had been the place where he'd met the love of his life.

So even if it was hell, it was home.

A place he was familiar with.

Thus, he was unwilling, to leave his home just yet.

And he had yet to go back to Yorkshire. To Wales. To the fief that was once his.

Lin FenXiang sighed, raising his head. He jolted as his phone buzzed yet again.

"Hello," he said, answering the phone. It was a call from Bai XiNian.

"FenXiang, the concert is in two days, you remember, right?"

"... I do."

He heard a sigh, then an answer. "Just make sure you are not over or under dressed."

Puzzled, Lin FenXiang canted his head to the side. "Why does it matter how I dress?" He asked.

Another sigh.

"You, there are going to be magazines and reporters there. And anyone who can afford the tickets and attend the show is bound to be captured on camera, willingly or not. So, Mr. Actor. You better keep whatever image you have in mind and not embarrass yourself."

Lin FenXiang rolled his eyes as he closed the sketchbook, gently tracing the lines of the man drawn on it. The man in the sketch had sharp features and calm, calculating eyes. A small, sharp edged smile etched on his beautifully shaped lips.

"It's not like I was going to show up naked or something," he grumbled.

"Knowing you, I can't be sure."

"You know shit, I won't cockup anything."

"You better."

"Bye."

"Hey, I still—"

"Hello? Oh my, the signal's so—"

"You, little—"

"Good bye, I can't hear you!"

Beep. Beep.

And then, Lin FenXiang hung up on Bai XiNian's face.

Speaking of the concert, Lin FenXiang was quite curious about this musical prodigy Yan Hansheng. But before that, he wanted to catch some fresh air.

So with an intention to walk for a bit and maybe even go back to the church, Lin FenXiang got out of his room and the hotel itself.

It wasn't, after all, a bad decision for as soon as the fresh air hit his face, he felt much calmer and clear headed.

Lin FenXiang, having nothing better to do, decided that he should go to the church again and maybe annoy Father William into revealing whatever cryptic shit he had hidden from him.

Lin FenXiang took out his phone as he stood at the sidewalk, trying to hail a taxi halfheartedly. He decided that if he was going to the concert he might as well look into the conductor.

Whether he was a musical prodigy or not didn't matter, because to him Adrastus was the absolute best.

Even if he wouldn't admit it to the Duke's face.

And perhaps it was a bad idea. Just as Lin FenXiang typed the name on Baidu and clicked the search button, someone bumped into him and the phone fell out of his hand.

"Oh, sorry mate!" A man — who rammed into him — wearing a hoodie apologised and picked up the phone for him. "I wasn't watching my way."

Lin FenXiang waved him off. "That's fine." He muttered, concealing his annoyance as he inspected the well-being of his phone. "Totally fine."

"Sorry again."

"Blimey, that's fine. No need to apologise."

Although the phone looked largely undamaged, Lin FenXiang found that it wouldn't turn on. Now, slightly more annoyed. He walked away from his previous spot and resorted to standing in another place.

"There goes nothing," he sighed, decisively putting the phone back into his pocket. He decided to put off the research for another time.

Hitching his backpack containing his sketchbook and art supplies higher, he walked on the sidewalk in strides.

Fortunately for him, Lin FenXiang soon manage to hail a taxi and went on his way to the Church of Temperance as he fiddled with the phone which refused to turn on.

As soon as he stepped a foot into the Church of Temperance, he saw a nun watering the plants there and stopped.

He probably shouldn't have come.

Thinking of backing out timely he slowly crept back to the gate, only to be stopped by Father William and his smiling face.

"Back so soon, Marquess?" The gentleman asked, not even putting efforts to hide Lin FenXiang's identity.

Lin FenXiang crossed his arms on his chest and made a face, or tried to make as much as his expressionless face could.

"I liked Father Alistar better."

"Oh believe me, everyone did."

Lin FenXiang dropped his hands to his sides and walked to one of the benches in the garden. Sitting on it, he raised an eyebrow at Father William, who'd followed him to the bench.

"Father," he started. "Don't you have anything else to do?" Father Willian shook his head frankly.

"I am as free as America after the revolution."

"Oh," Lin FenXiang responded, fiddling with his phone with his lips pulled into a small downwards curve. "Damn it, why isn't this working, ah."

"Forget it," he huffed shortly after. "I'll go to have it repaired somewhere."

"What happened?" Father William asked as he watched Lin FenXiang pull out his sketchbook from his backpack and get ready to draw.

"Oh, nothing. When I was on my way here, er, I wasn't really paying attention to who walked in on me and then dropped my phone during the impact. Now this—" pointing at his pocket distastefully "—isn't working."

Father William raised an eyebrow and declined to make a comment.

Lin FenXiang shrugged as he showed the gentleman his previous sketches.

The upcoming concert was a matter he should probably contemplate about, considering the fact that the Last Symphony Orchestra was literally related to his original life and he was probably going to have a bad reaction to it.

But Lin FenXiang was drawing right now, and he was in no mood to ponder about something that would eventually come to light.

"Whatever," he muttered.

It wasn't as if he was dying to know about Yan Hansheng.

His only relevance for Lin FenXiang — Drystan — was that he was a part of Last Symphony and was a conductor.

Just like his Adrastus.

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Author has something to say:

Author: My, oh my, the plot sure is approaching faster than I thought!